Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Fought Back
by Sir-Shun
Summary: AU. Neville's not the boy who lived. Too bad that doesn't prevent his life from being turned upside down anyway. Stumbling along the way, Neville will set out to prove one doesn't have to be chosen to be a hero. You just have to fight back. Ch 2: How Neville doesn't want to make friends
1. The End of a Beginning

**Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Fought Back**

* . *

Disclaimer: This is posted in a fanfiction site… I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

* . *

Summary: AU. Neville's not the boy who lived. Too bad that doesn't prevent his life from being turned upside down. Stumbling along the way, Neville unwillingly sets out to prove one doesn't have to be chosen to be a hero. You just have to fight back.

**1. The End of a Beginning**

**or **

**_How Neville came to a grim realization_**

Neville Longbottom had never noticed, but the ceiling of the Griffindor's common room was quite dull. It wasn't crimson, orange, or gold, like the well furnished walls, or brown like the polished floor. It wasn't even an immaculate white like the hospital wing – just a dreary looking grey. He wouldn't have noticed if he had another choice. What else could you do after being hit by a Body Bind spell?

There were only a few more days till the end of the school year. The final exams had been a nightmare, but he was at least sure he'd get more than an 'A' in Herbology. You'd think after all he suffered during the year, between being bullied by the Slytherins, being bullied by the older Griffindors, and being the unwilling test subject of the Weasley Twins – same difference really – having the worst first time on a broom ever, and getting detentions for trying to help his friends, that his trials would come to an end, but no… Neville Longbottom hadn't quite had his fill yet. Neville was quite the glutton for punishment. And so Neville considered that maybe, _just_ _maybe_, it would be the right thing to do to prevent his friends from facing a Cerberus.

And now he was in a Body Bind, looking at the ceiling.

You had to give it to the poor boy though. Neville had his heart at the right place. He didn't have concrete proof, but he knew whatever Harry and his friends were conspiring about was related to the mysterious room on the third floor. At first he was so worried that he had actually cried for his friends. There was a three-headed giant dog there! Later he had been angry to be treated in such a way. A Body Bind Spell? Really? Couldn't they… you know, ask him to tell a teacher after a small delay, or simply push him away? Offer him any kind of alternative? Put him to sleep? And this wasn't even a first year spell! He didn't know whether he should have been angry to realize they had actually believed him when he said he was doing this for the house points. Couldn't they realize that would have been quite hypocritical of him?

That led him to depression, as Neville had to admit to himself Harry Potter and his friends wouldn't have treated each other like they had done with him. That it was Hermione that did so left a particularly bad sting. He hadn't thought he and the popular Boy-Who-Lived would be close – despite what his Gran said, and it was clear that Ron didn't care at all about him. But Hermione… she actually worried for him sometimes, tried to console him and help him with homework. Well… only the last part had been true lately, and that was because Hermione helped _everyone_ with their homework. The first part of the school year had been spent trying to cheer the young witch up, being the only first year in Griffindor not really bothered by her bossy attitude since compared to Gran, it was almost cute. Of course that was until she became the third member of Potter's circle of close friends. After that… Still, she was the only one to give him the time of day. That had to count for something, right?

Unfortunately, he had to rethink that statement when he later saw Hermione come back – the only thing that could move on his body being his pupils that was harder to do than one would think. The common room door opened and there they were – Hermione and Ron heading to their rooms. The sheer relief at seeing the two alive and well was enough for Neville to momentarily forget his situation, not that he could do anything about it. He couldn't make a sound, let alone move his lips. But that wasn't the best part; whatever had happened was so big that even the _Deputy Headmistress_ and the _Headmaster_ passed him by. It wasn't like he was out of sight; Harry Potter and his friends hadn't bothered to move him away at an hour where everyone was supposed to be sleeping.

To crown the already awful night as the absolute worst, he discovered the most _unpleasant_ fact about the Body Bind spell: While the spell made your whole body rigid, it didn't stop some of the more… basic body functions… like bowel movements, and thus Neville had become a mess; cue to the return of the tears and anger. But now, the young boy couldn't find within himself the energy to care anymore. He had cried all his tears and his nose had quickly gotten used to the smell of his… mess. He was just looking at the ceiling, wondering why it was so dull and if he'd be publicly humiliated tomorrow or would the first one up would at least spare him some dignity.

"Longbottom! What are you…?"

Neville was relieved this had been whispered instead of shouted; maybe it was daybreak. He had lost track of time so he wouldn't know. What he did know however, was that the voice of the whisperer belonged to the fifth year prefect, Percy Weasley.

There was a long moment of silence before the prefect stated the clearly obvious. "You can't move at all, can you?"

The boy then heard the sound of footsteps heading for the boys rooms. He wasn't worried about being left there. If there was one thing Neville could count on at all in the house of the Lions, it was Percy Weasley's passion for his job. Nobody knew why he was such a stickler for rules, and frankly Neville didn't care. At least the teen treated everyone equally. It was also a plus that his brothers sometimes listened to him.

Moments later he heard him come back.

"_Finite Incantem_."

He was finally free, not that it help that much. "Can you get up, Longbottom?" the other boy asked grimly. This worried Neville who tried to move, but couldn't. It took all he could to simply shake his head without going into a panic, and even then his head moved only so slightly. He could barely make out Weasley frown. "You've been in that spell for too long already, so your body is kind of asleep," the older teen explained. "Give it five minutes or so."

Percy certainly knew his stuff because his body was already regaining feeling. Unfortunately a certain amount of pain quickly followed. His whole body felt like a big cramp, so much that if Neville had been a normal kid, he'd be probably crying in pain right now. As it was, he only let out small whimpers and tears. It took him another ten minutes to be sure he could get up without falling on his face, and even then he needed the support of the prefect to remain standing. He leaned against the nearest wall and let Percy use a cleaning spell for his robes and the floor.

"I've got one of your spare robes here, so Mrs Pomfrey can change you once we're in the infirmary."

Neville wearily nodded. Slowly they headed towards their destination in silence, only broken when the pain became unbearable – which only happened every time he moved a muscle. Percy asked only one thing. "Who did this?" Neville shook his head. Percy sighed. "Neville I don't think you know, but I already have a good idea about what happened back there, and I'll have to report this. Prolonged exposure to the Body Bind spell could have had landed you at St-Mungo's for a week."

Neville smiled sadly, shocking his senior. To tell the truth Neville would have been quite happy to spend a week in the wizard hospital. He shook his head again. "T-than ou," he slurred. Truly, the Body Bind was nasty stuff! Even his speech had become wonky.

The prefect sighed and said nothing more until they arrived in Madam Pomfrey's presence. She was already fretting over a student behind a curtain. No doubt this was Potter; he hadn't seen him along the rest of the procession earlier. His mind came back to the present has the matron was now looking at him wearily.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time, Mr Longbottom?"

The Prefect' eyes narrowed. "He was hit by a Body Bind spell." he answered coldly.

Madam Pomfrey gasped a she looked from one boy to the other. "How long, Mr Weasley?" While Percy was left to handle the details, Neville was left to peek at the sleeping boy in front of him. He looked so pale on his bed. "Will 'h be ahight?" he asked. The other two looked from him to Harry, and back to him, and he could see them sad to see him say that for a reason. "He gon be ahight?" he tried again. What was up with the silence? Was he really hurt? Was he going to die?

"He'll be fine, young man, you should worry about yourself," she said, shaking her head worriedly. The medic lifted Neville thanks to a spell and put him in the adjacent bed. She casted a basic diagnostic spell, frowned and went to fetch a potion. "Drink this and rest. If I like what I see in the morning you'll be discharged before breakfast."

She then returned to Percy. If her voice was anything to go by she was furious. "Professor McGonagall _will_ hear of this."

The redhead nodded. "That was my intention." And with that said Percy left to go to sleep.

As for Neville, something told him there would be no sleep for him yet, as tired as he was. So he made himself as comfortable as he could and stared at the white ceiling until the pain started to recede.

* . *

Neville didn't know when he fell asleep, but it was Madam Pomfrey's prodding that woke him. The sun was outside; meaning she probably wanted him to eat something. He wasn't in the mood, but his stomach was. So he ate, noticing that he had been changed during his sleep. After that and another check up, he was sent straight to meet his head of house. The transfiguration Professor did not waste a moment.

"Mr Longbottom, who was it that fired that Body Bind spell against you?" Neville remained quiet. "Mr Longbottom, do know that you are neither doing yourself nor the perpetrator any favors by remaining quiet." The boy knew that, yet he said nothing still. Even when the stern witch explained how dangerous the spell could have been and how this warranted severe reprimand for the perpetrator, he held this tongue. If anything this only strengthened his resolve. He was cross with Hermione, but he didn't want get even, not like that anyway. "Do note, Mr Longbottom, that I will find the perpetrator – with or without your help."

Neville blinked finally took a deep breath and said, "No offense Professor, but it took a prefect to find me when you and the Headmaster passed right by me, so I doubt that." That answer might have been a tad bitter.

Mrs McGonagall stood there either dumbstruck or furious, because from what he could see her expression hadn't changed. The way she looked at him made him feel very uncomfortable and somehow reminded him of home. "Very well," she let out. "Ten points from Griffindor for disrespect, and I'll see you in detention this afternoon."

The reason his detention was in the afternoon was simple; the final week of the school year had no classes for the first years. Neville apologized, excused himself and left to find something to do. Ironically, for a castle brimming with magic and adventure there wasn't a lot of activities to do by yourself besides reading and taking a stroll. So the plump boy headed outside, hopefully he'd be able to take a nap. His only surprise was Hermione's sudden interest in him now that Harry wasn't here, and her surprise her when he ignored her at lunch. The witch was acting like nothing happened and was babbling to _him_ about how dangerous their trip had been and how foolish they had been to even attempt it. For some reason, that annoyed him.

He later met his Head of House in her office, where he was simply asked to sit while she corrected some papers. That wasn't very daunting. Then again he hadn't really done anything wrong, had he? In fact, the Deputy Headmistress tried again to coax the name of culprit out of Neville during the detention, but he remained silent. And now that he had received his punishment, there was nothing the professor could do but send the boy back to his common room.

That was when Neville learned that his bad day wasn't quite over yet.

When he entered the common room to head for the boy's dormitory, he was intercepted by none other than the Weasley Twins.

"Hello Neville!"

"How nice of you…"

"…to drop by and…"

"…pay us a visit," they chorused.

Neville made to bypass them but one of them grabbed him by the shoulder and steered him towards the center of the common room.

"I heard you had a detention with McGonagall today, must have been boring. Luckily we have something to cheer you right up!"

"M'fine, really" the first year assured them nervously.

"Nonsense! Anything to cheer up our dear Nevikins. Isn't that right, Gred?"

Now the boy knew for certain he was in for it. For maybe the hundredth time this year, he wondered what he had done to the Twins. He certainly knew it wasn't because he lost House points. Everyone knew the biggest reasons their score was low were the infamous pranksters themselves. Well, he hadn't helped at all, but so did their Ron Hermione and Harry. Couldn't be because he had wronged them… maybe they just didn't like him?

He was startled out of his thoughts by one of the Twins last statement. "We were thinking about trying a muggle game called volleyball."

The first year gulped and looked around. As he had feared; there was no ball around. He assumed, as that 'feetball' game Dean was so eager to talk about, this game required some kind of ball, hence the 'ball' in the name – not very original if you asked him. He gulped, and asked the question that would seal his fate.

"Where's the ball?"

After a beat, the one of called Gred grabbed him and before he could fight back the other twin, Forge he guessed, fired a spell. Next thing he knew he was encased in a bubble, a special one considering how easily they picked him up. He tried shouting to be released, but apparently, they couldn't hear him. He could hear them pretty well, however. The Twins were asking if they were willing participants. To Neville's consternation everyone wanted to try. The only ones that didn't were Percy, who was fighting tooth and nail to stop this nonsense, and Hermione, by the simple fact that she wasn't there. Harry was, of course, in the hospital wing.

"Oh come on, Percy! This is armless," argued Gred, or was it Forge? He had lost track of them by the first pass. He had lost track of everything after the first pass. He was afraid of heights, deathly afraid. Who wouldn't be after being chucked out of castle at the age of eight by 'accident'? And now he was relieving that day in his mind. The look of his Uncle Algie then… it had been as scary as the fall itself.

Neville had become pale as a ghost and was glad to had skipped lunch – it took all he had keep his breakfast in his stomach. He was trying to break his prison, but so far nothing was working. What hurt him the most was he could hear them all. He could barely open his eyes, but he could clearly hear the laughter, aimed at him; his supposed house and family fighting for a chance to jerk him around.

Finally Neville's bubble hit the floor right next to Ron. The captive blond was hammering the sides of his prison, begging to be released. And then he understood. That look… the look full innocent enjoyment… _they didn't care at all about him_. So it truly was in pure, harmless fun that Ron raised his leg, and hit the Neville ball with all his might. Poor Neville flew away wondering if this game was ever going to end. People were trying to catch him but his trajectory was too high.

The game and his thoughts all came to a halt when he hit the wall. The bubble burst from the impact, hurting him in the process and he fell on the stairs leading to the boy's dormitory. He heard a sickening 'crack' and let out a sharp yell. That pain was familiar – he felt the same thing when he fell off his broom months ago. His arm was broken again. Luckily it was the left one. He slowly got up careful not to touch his arm. When he turned the brave and righteous house was still laughing, not even looking at him. It was funny. It was just a game. It didn't matter if _he_ was in pain – for them it was fun. They just didn't care about him.

He wouldn't cry he told himself. He had shed tears inside the bubble, when he was reminded of his experience with death, but now he wouldn't. They wouldn't care, so why should he cry? He took a deep breath, so he could bear the pain, and headed to the exit.

"Oi, where are you going, Neville?" It was Ron who asked, of all the people. Sometimes he wondered if the boy was pretending to be dense.

"To the hospital wing," he stated without stopping.

He saw the Twins exchange a look; they didn't believe him. The smile they had was a bit forced now. "Hey now, don't be a sourpuss, Nevikins!" one of them said as he approached. "It was a prank, no need to be serious about it."

Neville had instinctively taken a step back, his eyes on the door out of the common room. He tried to walk around the two, but they wouldn't let through. Around him the people were still laughing and Percy was still shouting trying to make a path to him. Then suddenly Fred-George reached for his arm – his broken, painful, throbbing arm.

Something inside of Neville snapped as he screamed.

He was tired of being a test subject, tired of being made fun of, tired of being bullied by the Slytherins, tired of being bullied and ignored by his house. He was sick of this school. He was sick of the students as he was of the teachers. He wanted to go home, take care of his plants and never set a foot in this accursed place ever again! Neville's cry was as much of frustration as it was of pain. He did the only thing he could at this moment. He yanked his arm back, and drew his wand.

The laughing abruptly stopped. Fred-George snapped his own arm back like it was on fire. Now everyone was looking at him with worry. But he knew better. This wasn't concern for him – it was worry for the consequences if their head of House were to hear of this. But he didn't care about that now. His arm _hurt_. The only reason he drew his wand was to hex the next person to get in his way.

"Hey mate, you alright?"

Neville snorted. A bit late to ask that – couldn't they see his arm was broken? "No. move."

"We didn't want this to happen, honest!"

"_I don't care! Move!_" he hissed his wand glowing ominously.

This time the Twins did let him pass. He raised an eyebrow at his wand. He needed to remember how he did that. Neville did not even spare a glance of anger at the Weasleys now that they were out of his way – he only saw the door that would lead where they would make his arm stop hurting. He had to stop and turn however when he heard footsteps behind him. He whirled and his wand was aimed at the target, ready to chant. The older girl raised her empty hands in surrender.

"It's Okay. I just wanted to help you to Madam Pomfrey's." Only it wasn't 'Okay'. The girl was a third year. Katie… something; he didn't remember. But he clearly recalled she was a participant in that little farce. It wasn't hard to recall since everyone had been. Neville aimed for a glare, but it came out more like a determined expression.

"M'fine! You played, you laughed. I don't need _your_ help!" he hissed through the pain. The boy didn't spare the flushing witch another glance and exited the common room – pain was his only motivator at the moment. He hadn't gone down the first flight of stairs that he was rejoined by Percy. "M'fine, Weasley," he tried again.

The prefect sighed in exasperation. "Your arm is broken, Longbottom – you're everything _but_ fine. I'm accompanying you and that's final."

There was nothing else to say so the two kept moving. They definitely had to stop meeting like this. As they neared the medical wing Neville shot him a pained smile. "Thanks."

Percy gave him an asking glance, but already Neville was opening the door.

"Dear Merlin! What happened this time, Mr Longbottom?"

The boy shrugged. "I fell on the stairs." Both the prefect and the Matron stared incredulously at him. He stared right back. It was the truth after all.

"Right," Mrs Pomfrey said reluctantly. "Just sit here, Mr Longbottom, I'll see what I can do for you."

Percy eventually left and Neville was left to wonder how many more times would he have to visit this place before the end of the year.

* . *

The next day went by in a similar way than before. Neville woke up in the hospital wing, because for some reason Madam Pomfrey decided to keep him for the night. He ate in the infirmary, and was informed the Deputy Headmistress was waiting for him. Only this time he was ambushed by two redheads on his way there – Hermione and Ron. Oh great, the two people who sent him in the hospital wing. Even the Twins who have been a better encounter at this point.

"Neville! I was just about to ask Professor McGonagall for you. What happened?" The boy looked at her in confusion. "When I came to the common room yesterday Percy was so angry…" Hermione paused. I occurred to Neville that this was probably the first time Percy had actually _been_ angry. "Anyway, he was so mad that he even snapped at me!" From her tone, you'd think any kind of authority angry at her was a sin. "He didn't even explain why he was. He just said that he was ashamed to be a Griffindor and that we should all apologize to you. Even the _Headboy_ looked ashamed."

Neville felt a small twitch around the corner of his lips. Once again his respect for prefect Weasley rose. He mentally shrugged. Too bad he'd never get to hear that apology. He focused on the moment and shrugged.

"I fell on the stairs, Granger," he said dismissively. The girl frowned. Neville couldn't recall ever calling her like that before, so that must have surprised her. Or maybe she noticed how he had phrased his explanation. Thinking the discussion was over he started walking, but the ginger witch fell into step next to him, with the other boy trailing behind them. Neville blinked. Twice. What was up with them? "Why are you guys following me?"

"You're going to Mrs McGonagall," she insisted, "why?"

The blond shrugged. "Because she called for me."

Now at Hermione's side, Ron had a different worry. "You're not going to tell her, are you mate?"

"Tell her what, Ron?"

Ron looked from Hermione to Neville. Both were looking at him inquisitively, but while Hermione's stare was full of suspicion, Neville's was the picture of innocent curiosity, and somehow much scarier for that reason. The young Weasley gulped. "Nothing, Hermione."

Meanwhile, Neville continued his trip and knocked at the door of Professor McGonagall. He entered, but before he could close the door Hermione and a reluctant Ron went in after him. Neville frowned, but said nothing.

"Ms Granger, Mr Weasley, to what do I owe this visit?"

"We just wanted to know what happened to Neville yesterday. They told me he slept in the infirmary."

The teacher's gaze shifted from them to Neville. "This is precisely why he's here. Well, care to explain us what happened, Mr Longbottom?"

Neville answered like he did Hermione. "I fell on the stairs and broke my arm. Percy helped me get to Mrs Pomfrey." The Lion's Head of house sighed. "You can ask Weasley," he added, pointing at Ron. "He was there." The professor's eyes went from him to Ron, who blanched. Neville was feeling vindictive today. He wanted to see if Ron would take the easy way out.

"Yeah, that's what happened. He fell down the stairs. Most of the House was in the common room and saw it."

Professor McGonagall eye's sharpened. "Mr Longbottom, I did in fact ask a Weasley, only it was the prefect." Oh? Apparently freckles could pale too – Fascinating. As for him he had nothing to say. If the Deputy Headmistress heard the story already he had nothing to add. "Mr Longbottom," she said at last. Neville had the distinct impression that the Deputy Headmistress looked… uncomfortable. "After further discussions with prefect Weasley, it seems apologies are in order."

The small pudgy boy blinked. Was she really presenting her excuses for what he thought she was? That was… unexpected. "Apology accepted, Professor."

The stern witch sighed. "I hope for your sake that I won't have to summon you to my office tomorrow as well. I would like to participate in end of term breakfast." She turned to Ron "Weasley? A word of you please?"

The blond felt like this was not a discussion he needed to be part of. Excused, he left the office wondering where to spend the day. He hadn't left the hall that he heard Hermione running after him. He tried to ignore her like one ignored a sudden wall blocking the road. Obviously that didn't work. This was becoming annoying. He had half a mind to pull out his wand. It had worked very well against the Twins, and to him nothing was scarier than the Twins.

…Except Snape, obviously.

Will power prevailed yet again – unfortunately.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked.

Hermione was wringing her hands "Why are you acting like this, Neville?"

Neville was genuinely surprised by her inquiry. "Why do you care?" he retorted.

For a moment, Hermione could only open and close her mouth. "What do mean 'Why do I care'?! You were in the hospital wing. Of course I'd be worried for you."

"Really? That's odd. This is the second night in a row I spent in the hospital wing. You didn't seem to care that much yesterday."

Hermione's face flushed, but then she quickly recovered. "And how should I have known about yesterday? I wasn't even there!"

…Because she had been the one responsible? Neville wondered why he even bothered. "Do me a favor, Granger. Next time, use a sticking charm. At least _that_ spell is clean," he finished.

By the time Neville got to the stairs Hermione still hadn't moved, probably trying to figure what he was talking about. Neville hurried with any luck, by the time she did, he'd be long gone. Even better if she didn't – it's not like he truly wanted her to know what had happened to him. That Percy knew about it was embarrassing enough.

* . *

The next day he hadn't felt like assisting the ending feast in the first place, not with his own house anyway. Still, he was kind of hungry, and didn't want to get in trouble later so he headed there. Only he decided he'd be late – no use in spending more time in bad company.

The Griffindors were looking kind of calm. Way too calm. Neville frowned when he looked at the house points. They were third, and they had lost the Quidditch Cup. That was enough to put any house in a sour mood, but sour wasn't calm. Things didn't add up though – it was like the Griffindors were expecting something to happen.

That also didn't explain Percy's need to stay away from the rest of his class, but for that he had a good guess. No matter, he was only here to eat anyway.

He hadn't made a step to enter when Dumbledore had decided to add last minute house points and they were now tied with the Slytherins. Neville's frown deepened. Maybe it would be best not to enter the hall just yet.

"Now, it takes courage to face our enemies," Dumbledore went on, "but it takes even more to face our friends. For that, I would like to reward 10 points to Griffindor for Neville's courage."

The ruckus of the House of Griffins was deafening. The cheers were even coming from the other houses as the colors were changed from green to gold. Everybody was laughing and chanting – finally Slytherin had been dethroned. Harry was happy as could be. People were congratulating him, Ron and Hermione and all was well in the wizarding world.

Dumbledore _had given him points_. Neville felt like someone somewhere was making fun of him. Why ten? Surely the Headmaster had known somehow about his loss of points and wanted to drive the point home that his actions had been totally worthless. Even better – this meant the Headmaster had _known_ about the Body Bind incident and had done _absolutely nothing_. That even the famous Dumbledore was taking a jab at him was suddenly too much for Neville.

But then he remembered – they didn't care about him did they? Neville hadn't done anything, not really. All he had managed was to get himself in the hospital wing. The Headmaster only wanted the Griffindors to win. _Even the Headmaster didn't care about him_.

The miniscule appetite he had, left him.

The atmosphere was too great for the Griffindors to notice one small part of their own was missing, and even the Hogwarts staff missed the little blond boy who silently closed the door on this warming scene with a trembling hand, his choked sob drowned by the crowd. Fortunately, Neville met no one as he hurried to his room, so he let his tears flow unashamed… until he tripped because he couldn't see the dratted vanishing step. After that, still crying cautious, he headed for his bed, packed his trunk changed his clothes and went to sleep.

The ride back to King's cross couldn't come soon enough.

* . *

**A/N: So there you have it. My little side fic. Tell me what you think. Don't worry; this won't affect my other story in anyway. Though my Avatar story is in permanent hiatus I'm afraid.**


	2. The Beginning of Summer

**Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Fought Back**

* . *

**2. The Beginning of Summer**

**or**

_**How Neville doesn't want to make friends**_

Neville figured he must have been the first one up, since the sun had barely risen. Taking advantage of that fact, he hurried through his daily routine. If he hurried, the only people he'd meet would be on the train, and for Neville, the less people he met, the better. He made an effort to move as quietly as possible, and managed to reach front doors with no one being the wiser. He stepped outside and instantly felt better. The feeling of the sun on his skin did wonders for his distress and sorrow – Neville could almost feel them burning away. He took two deep breaths and calmed down, thinking this behavior reminded him if plants. In that state he noticed a flaw in his elaborate plan – he had no idea where he was supposed to go. He started looking for a path leading to the Hogwarts Express, when he heard a booming voice behind him.

"Tad early to be out, aren't you, lad?"

Neville turned to answer the newcomer. "Sorry Mr Hagrid; I'm having a bad day, and I'm kind of in a hurry to leave."

The half-giant looked a bit puzzled by that. He was hesitant to let such a small boy trot of the castle grounds on his own by the looks of it. "I suppose I could take you there, he mused. And it's Hagrid, lad – none of that 'Mr' for old Hagrid!"

"If you don't mind, I would like to come as well," said Percy. Neville jumped. And here he thought he had been stealthy – the prefect was ready to go and he hasn't even noticed. Still, this was better company than he had hoped, so Neville didn't mind.

The Hogwarts caretaker shrugged. He appeared less worried about taking Neville there now – probably because of Percy. The three marched in amiable silence, observing the scenery. Before they knew it they were at the station where the red engine was already puffing, looking as eager as Neville was to depart. He and Percy climbed aboard, taking the time to thank Hagrid for the trip and picked the rooms they would be riding in. Percy levitated Neville's baggage, they wished each other a good summer, and the eldest Weasley currently in Hogwarts went to his room – the one assigned to prefects. They weren't friends yet, more like comrades, but he started to like the fellow.

Having nothing better to do, Neville decided now was a perfect time to take a nap.

* . *

When he woke up he noticed two things. The first was that they were moving – meaning his little nap wasn't so little. The second and most troubling one was that he wasn't alone in the compartment anymore. Better yet, the three people with him were none other than Harry and friends. Well, that wouldn't do – at all. Neville yawned, stretched and rubbed his eyes. Once he made sure he wasn't in a nightmare, he went for his things totally ignoring the other passengers. Hermione and Ron weren't looking anywhere near him. Harry was staring a hole in his skull.

"What are you doing Neville?" he asked.

Neville gave him a look. "I'm getting my trunk."

Harry apparently didn't find the answer was good enough, because his eyes narrowed. "Neville, what's wrong? If this is about the spell Hermione hit you with…"

"There is that, yes." But that didn't stop him from finally dragging down his belongings and heading for the door. Harry's hand did.

"You're angry I can see that. Why are you acting like…?"

"…like I just don't want to be near you guys?" Neville finished for him, "Maybe that's because _I don't want to be near you guys_."

At first Harry was shocked. Neville thought it was the perfect opportunity to leave, but Harry slammed the door he was trying to open. This did not look good.

"Please move, Potter, I really don't—"

"Harry," interrupted the Boy-Who-Lived. Neville blinked, a bit wary. Potter looked _angry._ "My name is _Harry_."

"I really don't want to end up in the infirmary again," he finished, not bothering to reply to Harry's statement.

Harry became confused. "Er… mate? What do we have to do with you acting like a right prat?"

The tense silence was another surprise to the scarred child. Neville of course knew Potter's friends had basically _everything_ to do with his current behavior, and so did they, leaving a very confused Harry Potter. He watched as Potter looked back to his friends who couldn't even look him in the eye, let alone Neville. As for him, he eyed Granger in particular. Guilt was clearly visible under her red hair. So the witch truly _hadn't_ studied the effects of spell she had used on him… he truly should be more surprised, but somehow he wasn't. With his luck, this was probably the only spell Hermione hadn't fully studied.

"It looks like your friends have a pretty good idea of the answer," deflected Neville. "You should ask them."

"But I'm asking _you_," retorted Harry. "It's not like I did something wrong to you?"

"Something wrong…?" Well, not to him per say, then again... "I dunno. I'm pretty sure suicide is considered something wrong. Were you thinking at all? What, because a Cerberus and a baby dragon _wasn't_ enough of a thrill for you! And who knows how many more times you almost killed yourself that night!"

It still surprised the blond klutz how strange Hogwarts was. True, Harry Potter and his friends were relatively unharmed at the end, but the only people in the _whole school_ that had been angry at them for that spectacularly dangerous and reckless stunt were Neville, Madam Pomfrey, and Percy. ...And Snape, but he didn't count. While they had lost points for being out after curfew and such during the year they had more than made up for it through this little adventure.

Harry retorted, getting angrier. "You think I did this for kicks? I was trying to protect the stone!"

Neville blinked. "You mean you nearly got killed for a _bloody_ _stone_?"

Harry sighed in frustration, ignoring the fact that Hermione had tried correct them for their language. "It's not just a _bloody stone_ Neville." He then gave Neville another appraising look. "What gives you the right to be angry about what _I_ did, anyway? I did the right thing! I still didn't do anything to _you_!"

"Well good for you!" Neville snapped, but he didn't look angry now. In fact, the boy was doing all he could not to break in front of his former friends. "I tried to do the right thing too! I tried to stop my housemates from being killed. Only I couldn't. I was stuck on the cold floor, I couldn't move, and the only thing going through my head was 'if they die, it's my fault!'"

Harry and Ron looked at Neville with wide eyes, while Hermione's hand covered her mouth. He looked at them and realized he had said too much. He didn't want them to think he cared anymore. He was a fool to think they were friends. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Besides, even if they were his friends, they were too suicidal for his tastes.

Being responsible for his parents was more than enough for poor Neville – he couldn't take care of anyone else.

He took deep breaths to calm himself. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I got carried away. You didn't anything wrong. Forget what I said. I hope you enjoy your summer."

And with that he tried to step outside, but Harry was having none of it. There a bit of a struggle ensued, ending with _Trevor_ of all things leaping out of his luggage and startling him. The toad landed on his head just as Neville fell back on the seat behind him. Even his own familiar was against him! Neville glared again and looked away. It was one of those days again. Except for him, that was pretty much every other day.

Harry sighed and sat in the opposite spot. Neville could feel his stare from time to time. Tired of it he snapped. "What?" his voice was _not_ cracking.

Harry gave him a strange look before he came near the blond and whispered, "The treacle tart… that was you."

This just made him angry again. Really, when he woke up with his broken arm to see Ha—_Potter_ still unconscious, he felt bad for him and thought he'd like something to eat. "I told her not to tell." Well, just one more person he couldn't trust.

Harry smirked. "She didn't." Neville was about to retort but Potter looked at his friends. "You guys, do you know what my favorite food is?" he asked them out of the blue.

Weasley gave him a clueless look, while Granger huffed and said, "Really Ronald, obviously Harry's favorite food is Chocolate Frogs, I mean he eats them all the time!"

Well obviously the young witch had no idea what she was talking about, you just needed eyes to see that Harry went out of his way to always eat those treacle tarts last. And his expression when he took a bite… it was pure bliss – _every single bite_. You'd think he'd get tired of the thing after a year, but apparently, he couldn't. He snorted, how could anyone not… his eyes narrowed. Was Potter _smirking_?

"See, Neville? You do…"

Whatever the bespectacled boy meant to say was instantly silenced by a soul chilling stare. Neville might not be one to let his anger blow like the Weasleys or as vocal as Granger, but if he got one thing out of being a Longbottom, was how concentrate his contempt into one terrifying expression, expression which the Longbottom matriarch was so famously feared for. Harry Potter, even with the time spent with the Dursleys, was not prepared for such a sight and reeled back, half shocked, half frightened.

The boy noted Potter's sudden change of mood. The raven haired boy looked serious, and for a long moment emerald green met sapphire blue.

"Maybe it would have been better if Neville found another room," advised Ron.

Neville's stare went towards Harry's friends, and so did Potter's for that matter. The Longbottom hadn't found the suggestion ill-suited, quite the contrary. Potter on the hand… "No," and he said it in a way that broke no argument. "Neville, what happened to you? You said that part of it had to do with The Body Bind Spell Hermione hit you with."

The young witch glanced at Neville. "I… forgot about Neville. I'm sorry. What was down there was dangerous and Ron got hurt and Harry was alone and…"

"What? Is that why you're so mad at Hermione?" asked a defensive Ron, "Because you spent the night on the floor?"

"No," he corrected, "I'm not angry about that, even though when you both went back to the common room you both completely _ignored_ me," he stated coldly, earning flinches in response. Well they should be feeling guilty, he was in _plain sight_. Well, not really, but enough that anyone with eyes could have spotted him. "And for your information Weasley, I spent the night at the _Hospital wing_, in case you hadn't noticed." he further corrected, "and if Percy hadn't found in the middle of the night, I would have spent my first week of summer break at _St-Mungo's_."

Hermione wilted while Ron decided it was better for him if he kept his mouth shut. Neville agreed. Whatever Weasley would become it wouldn't be lawyer because he clearly he sucked at it. "I'm sorry," mumbled a distraught Granger, "I didn't know—"

"And _that's_ the reason I'm angry at you," finished Neville with venom. "How come _you_ didn't know?"

Hermione's head shot up. She tried opening her mouth to explain the feat, but no words came out. _Truly a first_, Neville mused darkly. Potter's gaze became calculating while Ron turned to accuse him.

"So what she didn't know? How is that so bad?"

Neville blinked, before his eyes narrowed. "Weasley, we're talking about _Granger_ here. You know, the brilliant witch that reads and researches thoroughly _everything_ she does? How could she of all people use a spell _without_ _knowing __the slide effects_?" And really, he was being kind here by not mentioning his full reasoning, because everyone knew the rule about unknown spells: _you didn't use them – Period._ That left him with only two possibilities. Either she actually had known about the spell and its effects and had lied to him, or she hadn't, and that meant she had deliberately cursed him with a spell with no regards to the consequences. He couldn't figure what was worse really.

The young Longbottom nearly missed Potter's grim nod. "…And after that?" he asked. Neville snorted, not even bothered to answer that one. Ron knew why he was angry at him.

Not quite able to stomach the heavy silence. The youngest Weasley coughed. "I think he's also upset because he broke his arm two days ago. Neville uh… fell on the stairs." Hermione nodded.

Harry looked at all the occupants in the room and sighed wearily. "You broke his arm, didn't you?" the accusation was clear, without an ounce of doubt. His friend raised his hands in defense.

"It was an accident! He really did fall on the stairs."

Still Harry knew he was right; Neville wouldn't be angry against Ron otherwise. But just to be fair… "So what were you doing then?"

Weasley's gaze shifted. "Um… we were playing volleyball?"

Neville had to give it to him – Ron hadn't lied so far.

"Ronald Weasley!" screeched Hermione, "Tell me you did not use poor Neville as a _ball_!" When she saw her friend flinch, her anger flared in full. Meanwhile Neville glanced at Hermione in confusion. How the heck did she figure that out? "How could you!" But before she could go on a lengthy rant about Ron's lack of foresight, she stopped and glanced at Neville. "But why did you lie to Professor McGonagall?"

Neville snorted. "I didn't lie."

Before Hermione could reply Ron explained. "From the way it happened, he really didn't lie. He did fall on the stairs and it was an accident." The young boy then turned to Neville who was busy trying to stare a hole in the compartment door, and took a deep breath. "I shouldn't have done what I did, though. M'sorry mate."

Hermione decided this was the best thing to do as well. "I'm sorry, Neville. I should never have used that spell on you in the first place."

"Apology accepted." There was a pause before he faced Harry and reached out expectantly. "Can I have my trunk now?" Neville could tell that all the other two were now watching him. Were they expecting him to do something else? What, did they think they were back to being friends now? Were they even friends to begin with? In truth that could have been nice, but then this whole year happened, and something told him that this was only the beginning. It was that more than his inherent lack of trust that pushed him to snatch his trunk and turn around to leave.

"Wait, Neville!" Against his common sense, Neville stopped. "I'm sorry things happened like that, but I didn't do anything wrong to you, did I?"

Inside, Neville was lost. As much as he pretended he didn't want anything to do with Potter, Weasley and Granger, what he truly wanted were friends. But he should have known better, it wasn't the first time he had been betrayed by someone trusted. And how many times had he been apologized to, only to be hurt even worse. His eyes were drawn into the emerald green eyes of Harry, but they were now dull and full of a mix of weariness and fear. And yet, there was something about Harry that prevented to simply push them all away… the plump boy eventually tore his gaze away from Harry and mumbled, "I'm sorry, but right now I can't stay here."

The raven haired boy had clearly hoped for a better answer, but nodded and finally let him leave. Neville subtly roamed the corridors in search of an empty compartment but found none. He did however find a place with only one sleeping first year. That he was a Slytherin didn't matter much for Neville at the moment, so he entered and simply dropped his things. He had too much to think about. He had hoped his stay at Hogwarts would be the beginning of a new life. He wanted friends. He wanted to be a talented wizard. He wanted to do the Longbottom name proud. He wanted his Gran to finally be able to see _him_. This wasn't what happened at all. He wondered if he truly fitted in the magical world. He held himself closer. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to the hat and chosen Hufflepuff instead. He would have had many friends there.

He mentally shook his head. He had chosen Gryffindor in order to change himself, yet he had expected others to change. Or maybe he had hoped people to help him change. Well there would be none if that! Neville Longbottom would change and become a splendid young man!

…starting next school year.

* . *

It took less than two days for Neville to forget all about his awful time at Hogwarts. Once he arrived at his ancestral home, he unpacked, briefed his Gran about the evolution of the more important personalities of his school, and promptly lost himself in the Longbottom greenhouse. The place looked as big as one of Hogwarts' Greenhouses on the outside, but on the inside... it would be incredibly easy for one to lose oneself in so much foliage – which Neville had, several times.

The place was all a gardener or herbologist could hope for. The large interior was separated into four distinct sections. There were a large number of smaller greenhouses for Muggle plants in one section, one large field specially made to grow whatever food they ate, and another section for the most common species of magical herbs. The last section contained the plants and herbs deemed too 'feisty' for someone to attend to without extreme caution – this specific section was in turn divided according to the various climates and specification needed for each plant to grow. Neville had access to the first three parts of the Greenhouse since his Grandfather had initiated him to the joys of gardening, but this year was the first time he had been allowed to enter the last one since Granddad… well, since Granddad had left them.

The young Longbottom heir spent the first days of summer perusing the first three sectors of his Greenhouse. He hadn't wasted anytime in inventorying the different gardens and fields, taking care of noting which plants needed more care and how. After that he explored what he secretly called 'The Wild', taking extra care not to touch or disturb anything. While he knew how to deal with most of the plants here, he also remembered there were mandrakes and other niceties down there, and was in no hurry to accidentally kill himself. He and Sir Flimsy – his trusty knight-elf – had simply roamed the place at first, and distraught at the lost specimens and weed infestations, decided to plan for a total overhaul of the place.

It was this particular project more than anything that appeased Neville so. No 'silly wand waving' as Professor Snape would call it, no classmates to make fun of you, no jeers, no pranks, no stress, just simple and gratifying hard work. Most chores around the place could be done through magic, and with house-elves at hand it was all the more easy, yet Neville knew the result were marginally better when he got his hands dirty.

By the end of the second week, Neville was fully accustomed to his routine. He got up, ate breakfast with his Gran, then headed to the greenhouse until diner, after that it was an alternate of reading and having a hand at his summer work. Personally, he could very well see himself taking care of his plants for the rest of his life and never again set a foot out of his domain, let alone back to that school. Unfortunately this time of contentment abruptly ended one morning at breakfast.

"How are your friends, Neville?"

Neville blinked as if trying to remember the very meaning of the word. "Friends?" he echoed.

The Longbottom matriarch let out an impatient grunt. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you haven't made any – coming up short as usual. By the end of _his_ first year at Hogwarts, my dear Frank already had all the right connections," Neville mentally rolled his eyes, "Including Ms Anton," she mumbled as an afterthought.

The blond boy didn't mind the rant. He was used to his father being 'Mr Perfect-Do-no-Wrong', the epitome of the Longbottom legacy while he was… Neville. Of course his father was a socially suave, never mind the fact that he, Neville, had been practically isolated from the rest of the world, probably because he was a disgrace and couldn't do magic, so he hadn't actually met anyone who was anyone until he had set foot into school. What did make him smile, however, was that she had mentioned Ms Anton. If he remembered correctly, Anton was his mother's maiden name.

"If you don't have any friends, I think it about time you made some, don't you?"

Neville looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "What do you mean by that, Gran?"

Oh, Neville had an idea where this was going, but he knew nothing good would come of it. Would she drag him to those boring social gatherings? She never had done so before and he wasn't inclined to start going now. He'd only embarrass them both.

"I'll invite the Weasley boy over for a while, I'm sure you two will get along splendidly. And who knows, maybe their brothers will take you under their wing."

The Longbottom made a valiant effort to not choke on his food. He couldn't believe how bad the idea was. He was pretty sure he'd never get along with Ron Weasley, let alone the Twins. The only one he'd like to invite here was Percy, and according to his brothers he was an exception to the Weasley rule. So yes, this was a terrible, _terrible_ idea.

"That's alright Gran," he said hurriedly, trying to think of something, anything to get him out of a disastrous fortnight. "I, uh… have a friend I could invite," he said haphazardly.

Silence.

"_You_ have a friend?" snorted his Gran derisively. "Then I'd like to hear his name."

Neville internally gulped. There was only one person he could actually call a friend, and had any chance of not only being well received by the formidable Augusta Longbottom, but actually accept his invitation as well. The unlucky boy sighed. Personally, he'd rather spent the summer on his own, but there was no turning back now.

"Harry Potter."

"The Boy-who-lived?" She blinked, before her eyes narrowed. "Why is that I am only informed of this now?" Neville shrugged apologetically. "Harry Potter, eh? Maybe you are a Longbottom after all. Very well, send him an invitation to spend a week or two in the Longbottom Estate."

Neville nodded, but sighed.

This was going to be a long few weeks.

* . *

The first order of business was to send an invitation to Potter. He forwent his usual gardening session and spent it etiquette books in order to write an appropriate missive, in the off chance his grandmother would read it. Once that was done he went to their owlery, and by that he meant the furthest room from the resting quarters purposefully redecorated for the occasion. Oscar, fine specimen of horned owl gave him a regal look, as if to challenge the blond to actually send it on such a ridiculous errand as _delivering_ _mail_. Neville cringed inwardly, but attached his parchment and stared expectantly. After a long minute, Oscar hooted in what the young heir thought to be annoyance before flying away.

There it went, his first letter sent to someone other than his Gran. He hoped it would be the last too, because facing Oscar made him nervous. Neville rubbed his remembrall and hoped for the best.

Unfortunately, his grandmother eventually reminded him of his claim and Neville was confronted to the possibility that Potter hadn't been sincere. Or maybe Neville was to blame – he had been the one to walk on Potter's offer of friendship. He was ready to believe so, but Potter's lack of reply nagged him. He couldn't quite remember what he wrote in his letter, but he was quite certain he mentioned waiting for an answer. Three days later he had yet to see Potter's beautiful snow owl. Though he still wasn't certain about his relationship with the raven haired boy, he at least knew Harry Potter was polite. In other words, there was room for suspicion.

Here Neville had a dilemma. He could send another letter and hope for the best knowing that if this attempt did not produce results his Gran would take things into her own hands, and that meant the Weasleys. On the other hand, he had the method of making a more… direct inquiry, but for any upstanding wizard it was considered quite rude. He didn't dwell on it much, considering the alternative. Besides, the fact that Potter hadn't even replied to his letter – that was quite rude in itself.

So the morning of the fourth day after breakfast, Neville went to the greenhouse as usual. Only there he produced a letter and gave it to his companion.

"Sir Flimsy," he said, nodding to give weight to his resolution, "I have a letter that needs to be delivered to one Harry Potter."

"The Boy-Who-Lived, Sir?"

"The very same," drawled Neville in good humor. "I remember hearing that he lives with muggles so make sure he is alone when you approach him. And wait for a reply."

The house elf wanted to pick the letter but the boy pulled back his arm uncertainly. Flimsy said nothing but waited patiently for his master to hand over the missive. After a moment of internal debate the boy did so. The domestic saluted proudly. "It shall be done, Sir!" But before the magical creature could vanish in a loud 'Pop', Neville changed his mind.

"Sir Flimsy, wait! I… don't bother with the letter." His servant gave him a look of sadness mixed with confusion. "Just… just go and check on him will you? Make sure he's all right?" And if he was… well, at least he wouldn't have made a complete fool out of himself. "Get rid of the letter." Flimsy saluted with less enthusiasm, yet still excited to fulfill his master's command.

The rest of the morning went by relatively fast. He couldn't go to his favorite part of the greenhouse since going there alone was ill-advised – even for adults – so Neville spent his time in the cultivating fields, for some old fashioned manual labor. He rarely did so, as this kind of activities was part of house-elf duties and his Gram would have _words_ with him if she found him lowering himself to their level, but this was the next best thing as stress reliever.

He was considering skipping lunch when Sir Flimsy came back. "Harry Potter is… fine, Sir."

Neville frowned. House elves were a topic Neville could hazard being familiar with, what with his near constant exposure to them during his childhood – what, could you honestly picture his Gram of all people changing his nappies and tucking him in for a nap? Tutoring him? _Playing_ with him? So yeah, he was pretty much raised by house-elves.

The poor things changed emotions at the flick of the hand, often acted before thinking. In a word they were spontaneous. And he knew Flimsy, his knight-elf. To see him hesitate of all things – as far as to pause, even…

"What do you mean by 'fine', Sir Flimsy?"

The House elf started wringing his hands anxiously. "Harry Potter is doing fine Sir, if we were trekking of a house elf."

Neville blinked. "_Speaking _of, Sir Flimsy," he corrected automatically.

"As you say, Sir," said the loyal servant, always happy to learn something new about the English language.

This was worrisome. "Did you check his room? Was there anything magical there?" Neville asked again. When Sir Flimsy shook his head the boy knew something was very wrong the in the home of Harry Potter.

And here he thought summer would be boring.

* . *

**A/N: And it begins. We have entered th A/U zone. Hope you enjoy.**


	3. A Summer of Interest

**Neville Longbottom: The Boy Who Fought Back**

* . *

Disclaimer: This is posted in a fanfiction site… I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

* . *

**3. A Summer of Interest**

**or**

**_How Neville can also be a little rebel – with the right motivation_**

Neville took his assigned seat and dug into the soup in front of him. This was the second of their seven course meal, and for once Neville thought Hogwarts had the right idea with their buffet. He was clearly nitpicking at this point, but any thought was better than thoughts of Flimsy's report. Thinking about that would mean thinking about Potter. And that… he wasn't sure what to think about that.

Thing is, Neville hadn't expected a positive reply from the Boy-who-Lived-Dangerously, but he was kind of desperate – _anyone_ was better than Ronald Weasley at the moment. He could also admit he was a bit disappointed by the lack of response, because deep down, he had hoped Potter truly wanted to be his friend. Looking at it that way Neville was even grateful he hadn't been refused yet. Unfortunately, it seemed Potter's power to get into trouble struck again. Or maybe his relatives were as bad as he had feared. Potter was a right bloke. That a nice guy like him hadn't mentioned his family in a positive way _once_… was awkward. And Neville knew awkward. Most of his childhood had been awkward. His first school year had been awkward. He was at a point that he wondered if was possible for him to have couple of months just to be himself and _not_ feel awkward?

"Neville! Haven't you received Harry Potter's reply already? Are you sure he's your friend as you say?"

Apparently, he couldn't.

"No, gram. I thinking of writing a second one," he replied sullenly.

"And what good would that be? Surely this lack of response is an answer in itself."

Neville almost panicked. "But… don't you find it odd?" He was very careful about his inquiry. His Gram was very easy to anger after all. "Even if he wasn't my friend, even if hadn't bothered to read the letter, Oscar would have brought it back.

Augusta mused on the information. "I suppose you're right. Even if Mr Potter had decided not to nurture a friendship with you," which she found perfectly understandable from her condescending air, "He would have the decency of writing back. Very well, you may write another invitation."

Neville let out a breath. He had just bought himself some time.

"At any rate Neville, get ready – we're to leave in two hours."

…Or not. The boy jumped in surprised. "Leaving? To go where?"

"The Weasleys…" Neville wilted. "…is what I would like to say, but it seems the Weasleys have better things to do than to receive the Longbottoms."

He wondered if his Gram was doing this on purpose. "…like what?" he asked softly, more for her need to vent than for his knowledge. He couldn't care less about the Weasleys – except Percy.

"Apparently, they are visiting their son in Romania. One of them is a dragon breeder there, I hear."

Neville nodded. "Charlie Wealsey." Augusta Longbottom arched an eyebrow. "I overheard Ron talking about his brother."

"Anyway, please be ready to leave – we're going to a family reunion."

Neville had grown uncharacteristically cold all of a sudden.

"No." No way. There was no way he was going to see his relatives. If he died before he saw them again it would still be too soon. Then again, if he saw them again, they might be willing fix that particular issue for him.

His Gram looked surprised. "_No_?" Granting her grandson a second look, she couldn't help but be affected by his appearance. Neville opposition wasn't born from confidence, but from desperation. The only thing Augusta could see in the boy was fear. The matriarch rested her hands on Neville's shoulders and lowered herself so they could be at eye level. "Neville, I must say I understand why you would be reluctant to go, but your family only has your best interest at heart."

Obviously she meant the Longbottom name's best interest at heart, because he didn't see how drowning was in his best interest – or free fall – or poison… "They were trying to _kill_ me Gram," he retorted, not surprised by her view on this issue.

"Nonsense, Neville! They were trying to push the magic out of you – nothing more."

"And if I wasn't magical?" Because that was the real problem – they had all thought he wasn't magical until that horrible accident. And things hadn't got much better after that. Neville could see the denial in his gram's face. Of course she couldn't see it. She had been a prodigy in her time, and still formidable today. So had his father it seemed because only good things were said about him. He wasn't like that though. He was only Neville.

Augusta gave up on the idea of bringing him to the family reunion. "Very well – you won't be going. I suppose you're old enough to make these choices – even if they're the wrong ones. I will go, however. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days."

Neville let out a breath. He had dodged that particular hex for now, but he knew it was only a question of time before he had to confront his relatives. He just wasn't ready for that yet. Still the fact that he would be home alone for a couple of days was chance he never thought he'd have. This way he could look on the Potter matter without the added pressure of his grandmother. Who knew, maybe he could finally realise the little project he had in mind since he had started at Hogwarts. Things were starting to look up.

* . *

An hour after the departure of his Gram, Neville started to put his little project in motion. Potter would need a bit more time and preparation so he decided to set it aside for now. The first thing in order was to prepare a trip to Grignotts. That was the easy part. He had a wand now, and access to the floo. The only thing he needed after that was a kind soul to show him how to actually enter Diagon Alley, but then most folks would be nice enough to do at least that much, right?

The second part was gaining access to his vault key. Again, nothing too complicated. The Longbottom vault key would be ideal, but he doubted Gram would leave such an item without surveillance, or out of her immediate reach. He simply had Sir Flimsy fetch the key and he was done.

The last and most difficult part – actually doing something behind Augusta Longbottom's back. Neville wasn't an idiot. He knew that his Gram would know about his trip the second he activated the floo – the other house elves would see to that. So it all boggled down to this simple question – was this little project worth it? Yes, yes it was. So Neville Longbottom gathered what little courage he thought he had, threw the green powder into the fireplace and called aloud "The Leaky Cauldron," before stepping in.

The first experience Neville had of going against his Gram was that of his face colliding with the floor. Neville appreciated the rustic stone pattern like only an expert on floors could, and quickly got up. Nobody seemed to pay attention to him except the bartender so he naturally headed in that direction. The man had a friendly face putting the young Longbottom at ease. Maybe his little outing would be successful if people were that nice.

"Hi," he greeted shyly.

"Why, Hello young Sir! And to what may I owe…" The man paused as he gave Neville a closer look. "Pardon my curiosity, but wouldn't you be the son of Frank, Frank Longbottom?"

Neville blinked. He remembered he wasn't at school anymore and that most people of the earlier generation had a very good idea of who his parents were – they had been heroes in their time after all. They even had their faces in the chocolate cards. The same had happened when his Gram had brought him for the school shopping trip. He had thought it was more because _everybody_ knew Augusta Longbottom, but in this case his Gram wasn't here.

"It's the ears, isn't it?" People had always told him he had his father's ears, his eyes and his round face. His smile and love for plants were from his mother – or his grandfather, depending on who you asked.

Tom winked before leaning over the counter. "Your parents used to come eat here all the time when they were on patrol. And when…" his eyes shifted left and right before he continued, "You-know-who was causing trouble they saved this place a couple of times. They were my heroes. It's a shame what happened to them."

Hearing this, Neville tried hard not to squirm. He had always known his parents were great aurors, his father had been perfect, and his mother, the wench that managed to win his heart – according to his Gram anyway. His family had made it perfectly clear that he had a lot to live up to. That people he didn't know would recognize him as the son of heroes was only added pressure to perform well at this point.

Seeing his reaction the bartender changed the subject. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, er…"

"Tom, just Tom."

"Well Tom, I would like to go to Diagon Alley."

"Do you really think it wise to venture through Diagon Alley alone, Master Longbottom?"

Neville flushed. He had always hated being called that way. "Neville, please. I know what I'm doing, I'm only going to Gringott's. …Please?"

Tom sighed as he passed his hand through his hair. "Alright, I guess it should be fine if it's only the Bank. But you have to promise me not to go anywhere near Knockturn Alley."

Neville breathed easily. That was a promise he could definitely keep. "You have my word."

"Right. Do you have your wand?" Neville nodded, drawing his wand at the same time. "I'm not allowed to open the way for anyone, but I can show you how to open the path yourself."

They did so, and after thanking Tom for his help, Neville went to Gringott's. It was great that the Bank was his only stop for the day. Neville could have easily lost track of time visiting all the other interesting shops and stores in the alley. Not to mention the very real possibility of him getting lost. Thankfully, it was a straight path from and to Gringott's. On top of that, the building was instantly recognizable with its white marble and its goblins.

Before even heading there, Neville made sure he wasn't being watched before whispering, "Are you still there, Sir Flimsy?"

"Of course, Sir. Let us go fork!"

Neville smiled, corrected his invisible companion and the two entered the austere looking Bank. The goblins were right down scary, but with Sir Flimsy at his side the Longbottom heir was able to remain calm, even though the knight-elf had turned back into being visible once they entered. It was somewhat embarrassing having a house elf for company – it was kind of having a nanny, really. Neville trusted his companion with his life though, so he didn't care. In fact you might say that Sir Flimsy was the boy's only friend.

* . *

His first hurdle was the counter. He couldn't see the top – the goblin behind it even less. Neville took a couple of steps back to see a Goblin peering at him from the desk.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

The rough, nearly rude manner of speech threw him off at first, but Neville replied, "I would like some information on my vault, if you please."

After demanding his name and vault key, the clerk sent for another goblin named Grimfang. Neville waited about two minutes for said goblin and frankly, couldn't differentiate him from the others aside from his clothes which were different from that of the clerk and the guards, and the sneer aimed at his direction. Flimsy immediately stepped between them, ready to defend his master, to which Grimfang responded with an even uglier scowl.

"Come, Master Longbottom. I have no more time to waste."

Neville wondered for the hundredth time that day if coming here was a good idea. After all, this could end up being a huge waste of time for Grimfang. Then again, he had basically ensured his Gram would be cross with him already – might as well go through with it. And so he followed, his knight-elf walking in step with him.

They arrived in a spacious office. Where the goblin sat down, without even inviting Neville to do the same, and stared. Neville nervously glanced around, not quite sure where to start, or how to ask about what he wanted, really.

"Master Longbottom, do you need anything – besides wasting my time?"

The boy winced, and decided to address his name first. "Please call me Neville, or Longbottom if you must." This made Neville think that this goblin probably had a title or a name he wanted to be called as well. "What should I be calling you, then?"

Grimfang raised an eyebrow before grinning, showing some of his razor-sharp teeth. "You may call me Master Grimfang."

Without blinking, Neville went on. "Well, Master Grimfang I would like some information on my thrust vault." He paused when he noticed Grimfang looking surprised. "Is there something wrong, Master Grimfang?"

Shaking the shock out of his system, the gobbling growled menacingly and said. "Just get on with it, Longbottom."

"Right, is there anything besides money in my thrust vault?"

The goblin did not even need to open the folder in front of him. "No. Only money can be transferred in thrust vaults."

Neville deflated. After a moment he asked again. "Well, do I have another vault to my name?"

The goblin looked up. "In fact, you do, Longbottom. Your parents set up two vaults under your name. The thrust fund you are no doubt aware of and a second one for your personal use. You will gain access to the Longbottom vault on your seventeenth birthday. It is mentioned in your parents will."

This raised Neville interest. "May I see it, Master Grimfang?"

"Yes, since you are mentioned by name." He drew the rolled parchment from the folder. Apparently the folder was magical.

Neville skimmed the testament. He was totally ignorant of the legalese behind such matters so he directly skipped to the part that concerned him. According to this, he had immediate access to his two vaults and two properties.

...Two properties?

"The Longbottom manor is mine?" he nearly shouted.

The goblin glared in his direction. "It is, but until your seventeenth birthday, properties along with important artifacts and such are under the administration of your legal guardian."

No doubt that meant his Gram. Try as he might, he had absolutely no idea about what the 'Noble Abode' might refer to. None of the places he had the misfortune to floo to had this name, so it wasn't the place of a Longbottom he knew. Could it be… "Sir Flimsy," he asked, with a slight shake in his voice. "Do you know where the Noble Abode is?"

"Yes, Sir. Tibby and Scratch used to wonk there. This was your parents' home."

Neville remained quiet as he struggled with a great deal of emotions. "Master Grimfang, do I have access to the Noble Abode?"

"Yes. As you inherited these properties, you have full access to them, not even your guardian can prevent you from visiting or granting access to either properties. "

This was it. This was the opportunity he was looking for. His family being Longbottom, most stories he heard were from his father. He had come to respect and resent the man a great deal. However he had absolutely no firm image of his mother. Oh he had pictures, of course. From those he could see she was kind, but also powerful, from the one in her auror robes. Her character was a mystery to him and the curiosity was wrenching than hunger, hence this project. He had hoped to gain access to the Longbottom vault and find something there, but this was a better alternative.

"You have my gratitude, master Grimfang," Neville said, taking a bow. This once again shocked the goblin. "I'm sorry if I have wasted your time," he added a bit nervous. "I hope in the future I'll be able repay you for your time."

The goblin's look became frighteningly calculating and his sinister smile only served to enhance it. "If you mean it, Longbottom, then there is one thing you could do." Grimfang got up and headed for the door. "Come."

* . *

When Neville arrived in front of the familiar cart, he was sorely tempted to backtrack and decline Grimfang's request, but the goblin had been so helpful despite the blond wasting his time that he had to repay him somehow. So he gulped once and embarked in the infernal contraption. The second ride down the rails into the entrails of Gringotts wasn't as bad as he thought. He had an idea of the twist and turns and sudden drops he would be facing, so in the end he managed to arrive at their destination without losing his meal this time – barely.

"Isn't there a less… daunting method of getting to the vaults, Master Grimfang?" asked a still green Neville.

The goblin thought about it. "I suppose we could slow the carts…" Neville looked quite amenable to the suggestion. "…but then the dragon would catch up."

Neville did not know if Grimfang was joking and found he didn't want to know. He quietly followed the goblin to what he figured was the Longbottom vault, as his thrust vault looked nowhere this big or this imposing. The Longbottom heir waited for Grimfang to explain his request.

"Under normal circumstances, you shouldn't have access to this vault until you come of age. However, when a House must pay a debt to the goblin nation, only a member of the House can make the payment."

Neville looked at his interlocutor. The Longbottoms had dept to pay? He wasn't aware of that. "What is the payment?"

The goblin grinned. "A ring – this one is a copy," he added handing a beautiful silver ring to the boy. "The Longbottoms borrowed it centuries ago. You are to enter the vault and fetch the ring. Should you find something you fancy in the mean time, you are free to… borrow it."

Neville didn't trust that 'borrowing' business, and was wondering if he really should get the ring in the first place, but already the doors to the vault were opening and Neville was curious. He and Sir Flimsy were about to enter only to be stopped by Grimfang – only a proper member of the Noble and Most Ancient house of Longbottom could enter the vault. Neville assured his friend he would be fine, gulped, and cautiously entered his ancestors vault.

The place was huge. There was a substantial amount of Galleons, but nothing that would lead Neville to believe they were filthy rich. On the other hand, he could readily believe to have lost himself in one the famous dragon keeps found in children stories. Swords, Daggers, Armours, Jewels, paintings, potion equipment… Neville had no doubt he could come every day for the next year and still find something new every time.

This sounded great, but founding a ring in this hodgepodge would be impossible in a day. "How am I supposed to find the right ring in all this mess," he muttered.

Only to be answered, "By asking me."

Neville jumped, turned around, fumbled for his wand and dropped it, all that in two seconds. He hastily picked his father's wand and pointed it at the ghost floating in front of him. Oh great. He remembered learning about dealing with ghosts... or rather he remembered attending a class where they were _supposed_ to learn about dealing with ghosts. He let out a small whimper – why was he always the unlucky one? He bet Potter would never be caught in this kind of situation… then again, a Cerberus _and_ a dragon?

Looking closer Neville could see something he hadn't noticed before. Namely his long beard – Dumbledore would be jealous – and his distinctive ears. He was a Longbottom – this clearly meant he wouldn't try to hurt him, right? The fact that he hadn't attacked yet was encouraging.

Neville asked, "What do you want?" with as less stutter as he could.

The apparition sighed. "You think I'm a ghost, don't you?" The boy nodded – he certainly looked like one, at any rate. "Well I'm not," he replied gruffly. "I'm a memory – there's a difference. I'd explain it to you, but since you had no idea what I was I'll assume your father didn't teach you about Cogimency."

Neville sobered instantly. The memory noticed and decided to change the subject. "Anyway, if you want to find something in this mess, there's no one better than me to ask. I've been here for some time."

Neville shrugged. He had nothing to lose by asking anyway. He showed the ring and waited. The old ghost's frown became more pronounced as he said. "I know where to find this, follow me." The walk lead them to a corner of the vault filled with magical relics. There was the ring, resting on pedestal. The boy let out a breath – that hadn't been so hard. Now all he had to do was pick the ring and go back home.

As he neared the stand, he noticed a huge mirror to his left. His reflection looked distorted, and made feel queasy, so he decided to ignore it… until this weird image drew its wand. This time Neville drew his wand without dropping it. He was lucky his opponent hadn't cast a spell yet. Its wand was glowing red however, so Neville decided to attack with the first thing that came to mind – the leglock jinx.

His spell was barely out of his wand that Neville was blasted off his feet. His bum hurt somewhat fierce, but otherwise he was okay. Whoever or whatever he was facing was powerful. Neville decided to retreat behind the nearest object. He peeked from behind the statue he was using as cover – his mysterious enemy was already chanting his next spell. The blond hid and waited for the spell to it… only it never did. Neville spied on his foe again and sure enough it was ready to attack. He tried firing a spell but his reflection was faster. Luckily the statue was there to take the hit this time.

Neville was a bit confused. Why was this thing only attacking now? If he was so fast, why didn't he attack while he was down or running for cover? He peeked again. Again his opponent was ready to attack, but no spell came his way. Neville had a sudden thought. A stupid, definitely suicidal thought, but a thought nonetheless. Maybe that thing was only firing spells when he was casting spells first. It was nothing but a hunch, but there was nothing else to do. If that wasn't it Neville would have no choice but to give up on the ring, so he took a deep breath, mentally encouraged himself, and stepped away from the statue. He closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable spell to hit him and… nothing. The reflection looked ready to curse him silly, but wasn't doing so.

Neville got closer to the mirror. So he was right, that thing only attacked back. He blew a raspberry at his reflection. It answered by slamming his fists against the mirror. Neville jumped back and nearly hexed the thing, only to remember what would happen if he did. In the end he decided to put his wand back into his pocket and fetch the ring before he was attacked again.

"Splendid, young Longbottom!" Neville jumped for the third time that day. Next to him was the memory from earlier. "I must admit you have grasped the trick behind my practice mirror quite easily. Then again, most of your ancestors were knocked out cold by the first spell. You see, the stronger the spell, the greater the power behind the counter spell. Ingenious, isn't?"

Neville narrowed his eyes. "You wanted me to face that thing?"

The apparition chuckled. "Call it a Longbottom tradition – every Longbottom heir went through it."

"Right… who are you again?"

"Archibald, Lord of Longbottom." The apparition said with a dignified salute. "And may I be so bold to ask for your name, young Longbottom?"

Neville froze. Not Longbottom, but _Lord_ of Longbottom? "Y-you're the _first Longbottom_!" He couldn't believe it. To be able to meet the patriarch of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom.

The apparition scratched its chin. "Actually, my grandfather was the first Lord of Longbottom." That threw the boy for a loop. "But I say, being the third of something is not so bad, wouldn't you say?" Neville was still trying to have a sound idea of the memory, when it turned to him, his glare piercing. "So, young Longbottom …your name? And what do you want with _my_ shield ring?"

Neville looked nervous. What if that goblin had been lying? The ring was in the Longbottom vault after all. He decided to introduce himself and explain the situation to the memory in hopes that he would shed light on the subject. Archibald tsked and shook his head condescendingly. "Every generation it's the same," he said, "those goblins will never learn, won't they?"

"What do you mean by that?" asked a curious Neville.

"I commissioned the goblins to forge me that ring – paid a treasure for this artifact. I wouldn't do that much just to _borrow_ it!"

Neville frowned. "So you did borrow it."

"Of course! That's what I told them! They would have never agreed otherwise. I never intended to keep my word, though. So now that you know the truth, simply… hey! What are you doing young Neville!"

The moment Archibald had revealed the truth Neville made up his mind. If the goblins had a right to get the ring he would give it to them. So he picked up the ring and started to head back. That ghost had said it was a memory, right? The boy hoped he would be like Near-Headless Nick and not Peeves, meaning he might be able to get away with this.

"You're a shame to the Longbottom name!"

The words stunned him better than any spell would. He turned slowly, trying his best to hide the damage done. Of course his ancestor would feel the need to point out how unworthy he was of the Longbottom name! It's not like the rest of the Longbottoms had said any differently. Well, his Gram had said so at least. For the rest of his extended family, it was all in the disappointed, even spiteful looks he would catch when they thought he wasn't looking – because if Neville had learn to do one thing well, it was to observe. That skill had saved his life many times throughout the years. Somehow it just confirmed what everyone what saying, but it only served to make him feel incredibly small and lonely.

No comfort, even from his family.

Neville took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He thought a while about what he wanted to say to the memory, what felt about this situation – what he felt about his whole life. For the first time since he saw the apparition he looked at it in the eyes and said, "I have been ashamed of many things, but not of this. And I'm not sorry for doing the right thing."

Deep down Neville knew that he had acted quite cowardly. Archibald could probably do nothing more than talk and glare at him as far as he was concerned. He wasn't really the one who needed to hear that. Still, he felt better after saying it. He turned and headed for the exit with the conviction of having done the right thing for once.

"So be it."

Hearing these ominous words, furthermore the ominous tone of voice that came with it, Neville realized he was in trouble. Suddenly, pain shot through his head and stopped just as suddenly, replaced by emptiness.

* . *

**A/N: Third Chapter. Hope you enjoyed it. Up next, Neville tackles his second project. Namely, the 'anything but Weasleys' project. Don't forget to review!  
><strong>

**PS: A special thanks to largomolo for his review. It was the only one for chapter two -_-'.  
><strong>


End file.
